Tall latte of a girl
by Chudan
Summary: College AU. Clarke works as a barista and slaves as a college arts student living a relatively stagnant life until one particular brunette customer catches her eye. Bellamy works alongside her. Not all heroes wear capes. An apron is just a backwards cape. Potential to progress further into M. Clexa slow burn. Pls review : )
1. Mise en scène

The cafe was packed with suits. People in high strung business careers with their expensive attire and insatiable thirst for coffee.  
This was to be expected as the shop was located smack bang in the centre of several corporate buildings in the city of Polis.  
Although those that earned over 150K generally filtered out around 8:50 - 9:15.  
Clarke finished wiping milk residue off the steam wand and unscrunched her eyebrows at her quick glance to the clock conveniently placed besides the blackboard beverage menu.  
She bit the left side of her bottom lip; it was soon to be 8:40.  
A business man in a suit stood stiffly towards the back of the shop, close to the door.  
The barista caught a glimpse to identify him. He came in daily wearing the same shades, but apparently he wasn't too thrilled with the time frame it takes to prepare his order today.  
The suits' arms were crossed, this in turn bunched enough fabric into the crease of his elbow, exposing what was expected to be an expensive watch.  
The blonde retrieved a large paper cup from beneath the bench out of reflex and began to pour the piping hot milk into the caffeinated concoction.  
There was one last touch, cocoa powder - it was a cappuccino. Despite a lid going over the foam adorning the sweet dust, customers kick up a fuss when it isn't applied. Clarke snorts at remembering one lady in particular dousing her in the remaining coffee - without cocoa powder - all over her uniform.  
Thank God the lady had half consumed the drink that the heat within was reduced significantly. Instead of being burnt, Clarke just became saturated with milk. A soft chuckle to herself, she got sent home early that shift.  
With a smirk, she calls the name "Cage" and sets the fresh coffee further towards the retrieval bench out of habit.

She turned away, beginning yet another coffee for the next common customer.

The store seemed to grow in size as 15 of the waiting patrons were delivered their drinks and set on their way to begin a tight schedule.  
Only 3 business people left. Although these looked to be younger, less rich individuals.  
She figured immediately as they ordered that these were the rookie assistants. All ordering about 2+ coffees to go.

She recalled when she had been an assistant to her Mother, Doctor Griffin. They wound up butting heads too often so Clarke shortened her employment to a temporary state, much to Abbys' dismay.  
Her mouth formed into a flat line.  
Sure, she had regretted the way she left her Mothers side, but it had to be done.  
Moving away was an essential milestone and served to inspire her career in the arts further.

The fact her College was in the same state only aided in her argument to leave home so soon.

She finished up a batch of coffees and slipped them carefully into drink trays, slotting a generous wad of napkins between cups in case of spillage.  
The last shuffled over in a thin white dress shirt and black tie, giving a smile above a grimace to the barista.  
She returned a hopeful nod and small smile.

"Have a good day"

"You too."

She breathes out a large sigh.

* * *

The pale light from the sun shining through the skyscrapers becomes a firm white.  
An elderly couple order with a sincere smile and seat themselves in the corner of the cafe.

Clarke casts her gaze over to them as she prepares their beverages; they're holding hands over the table top.  
That's what is meant by forever. Growing old with someone you love in the most purest form.  
The sight brings a smile to her face.

She empties milk into 2 mugs, placing a spoon on each saucer before leaving the barista bench to deliver it to them.

After returning to her counter, she begins to empty out the spill tray of the espresso machine.  
Someone approaches the counter to order, Bellamy, who is typically situated behind the pastry, sandwich and macaroon portion of the store, comes over to serve.  
He was good like that. He helped without expecting praise.

He turned away from the counter after the customer retreated to seat themselves.  
"Just need a large latte at table 4, Princess." He informed with a smile, before hurrying back to man his bench after seeing a small family approach the snack bar.

The blonde huffed before finishing up her task, then began frothing milk and preparing the latte.

'Table 4, huh' Clarke thought without any real objective, cast her blue eyes towards the table for 2.  
A long, wavy-haired brunette sat poised, back straight as an arrow as her hands worked over the keys of her macbook at a lightning pace.  
The blonde, intrigued but not wanting to stare, averted her gaze back to the job at hand.

She finished preparing and made her way round the barista bench to give it to the mystery woman she hadn't seen before.

As she approached, she began to smile into her sentence, "One tall latte?"  
She placed it to the right of the laptop and set down the spoon on the saucer along with a napkin.

Her light eyes flickered to the girls face, into her ever-green, framed with dark lashes.  
Clarke wasn't expecting such a striking appearance, her breath caught in her throat.

The brunette held eye contact for a moment before her mouth barely opened to utter a 'thank you'.

Clarke was in a state of shock. How could one person have such aesthetically pleasing facial features?

She turned away and barely nodded in response, making her way back to her counter.

Bellamy glanced down the space between both benches and saw her, both her hands screwed up in her apron as she stared blankly at the espresso machine.  
Complete bewilderment.

"Hey," He whispered her way. She remained unknowing of her environment, to which he couldn't help but crack a smile.  
God, Clarke was a nutter. At least that's he thought, and that's all that counted to a Blake.  
"Pssst, Clarke!" He shouted in a hush octave.

She blinked in the first time in a good 2 minutes, fluttering her eyes towards him.

"You okay over there?"

"What-oh, yeah." She whispered back with a dismissing wave of the hand.

"You sure?" He mouthed narrowing his eyes in suspicion, his eyebrows knit themselves together in one sharp pull of his forehead.

"Yeah, yeah. It's been a long day" She replied with a smile, desperate to reassure him. The last thing she needs is Bellamy finding out about her 'I made eye contact with a pretty girl' paralysis. She'd never hear the end of it.

She wrinkled her nose to break her stun further, leading him away from her suspicious scent.  
"I'm okay, Bell. Really."

With a nod he turned back to man his bench, though Clarke failed to believe she convinced him too well.

Her eyes focused beyond her counter, back on that cute brunette who's trained purposefully on her laptop screen.  
The barista wiped her hands on her apron once more, looking down with a sigh.

Clarkes life was unbearably dull on her own, so vibrant persons such as the mysterious girl sitting on her lonesome enters it, even briefly, it's food for thought.  
Something or more - _someone_ to think of. Inspiration if you will.

A Muse.

* * *

It was finally 12 and her break had arrived.

"I'm taking my break" She announced, her voice carried to Bellamy who quickly served up a ham and cheese croissant on a plate.  
"Try not to zone out, princess. You have 25 minutes." He informed. He was supervisor, acting manager while that position had yet to be filled.  
Although they both roughly started out at the cafe around about the same time, he sucked up to achieve a promotion. Mostly in order to gain more money to provide for his sister. The barista hung up her apron as she retrieved her art diary from her canvas bag.

"You aren't the boss of me" She rebuked but in feign. Narrowing her eyes at him as her pale hand snatched the plate he prepared out of habit for her.  
He let out a sigh and gave her a amused smirk as she retreated to her typical break spot (when it was vacant).

It was at the stool/singles section at the front left of the store. Customers rarely intentionally used these seats unless the rest of the house was taken, so it remained relatively clean and preserved.  
Not only was this spot out of the way to not take up excessive amounts of room, but it had one of the two massive windows directly in front of the bench Clarke used. Being able to see outside meant she had more to draw; though she had sketched just about every building in sight from it, it still relieved her to be closer to outside like this. Just a little bit more free, like a bird or the wind.

She hummed as she ate. Savoring the first meal she'd consumed today. The saltiness of the ham and, in contrast, the sweetness of the cheese.  
The flaky pastry surrounding the contents just added to how pleasing it was sink her teeth into it.

Finishing up her food, she began to flick open her art diary. Sliding around the crisp white pages around the coil spine of the journal.  
The blonde hissed when she registered what the transparent smudges around the edges of the page were - grease residue from her hands. She'd forgot to wipe them clean.  
You'd think if you'd made the same mistake countless times prior, you'd learn to avoid it. Not Miss Barista Griffin.

Despite this mistake aggravating her, she let it go. She could probably just draw over the soiled portion in order to save it. Not all is lost.

Now, the new question is, what to draw in the mean time. She tapped the eraser end of her pacer to the soft divot in her chin, the eraser producing a satisfying bounce.  
A bird had walked into frame of the stores window and she had made some progress down on her page, but man leaving the cafe spooked it into flight.

She sighed to herself before casting her gaze inward. She saw that girl - _the_ girl - was still situated perfectly in one of the deep brown wooden chairs, headphones in but her fingers still moving around the keys as consistently as ever.  
Clarke noticed from this angle, although it be further away, the brunette had a notebook out as well along with a bag lumped below the table next to her legs.

Her legs, they were crossed - covered in tight black jeans that part way down her calves began into brown boots with a small heel.  
On the girls torso hung a loose fitted white shirt that fell slightly off her shoulders, causing the neckline to plunge to a degree.  
Her figure was lithe like that of a dancer. Her brown hair flowed off her frame too. It almost appeared ethereal.

Clarke had awoken to herself drawing this customer. She had even noticed she'd turned her body towards her in order to commit this embarrassing atrocity.  
The barista turned away from the view, face flushing bright pink as she prayed Bellamy hadn't noticed her ogling at the unsuspecting patron. If he knew, _Octavia_ knew.  
The Blake siblings were double trouble. Bellamy having some sort of resolve and responsibility, acted as a second pair of eyes and ears for his gossipy sister and Clarkes best friend, Octavia Blake. _Christ_ , she hoped he'd been occupied.

Although she had promised herself she wouldn't look at the other girl again during her break, she did give her the freedom to shade in the girls pants. Incorporating small details she hadn't added in her rough sketch down of the brunettes pose, like small, what looked like to be decorative belt buckles on her boots. Or the coat hung over the back of her chair.

Clarke spent the last 5 minutes of her break looking at the drawing of the girl she was forbidden to look at.

* * *

The barista had wondered when she should retrieve the cup from the beautiful individual at table 4. It had been at least 2 hours this girl had been typing for.  
Clarke hated to admit it, but she was intimidated by this being. A being that looked at her once voluntarily, though more out of common courtesy than general interest.  
'Although,' Clarkes hopeful portion of her brain sparked up, 'that was a mutual moment when we held eye contact, wasn't it?' the small thought finished rhetorically.  
'C'mon, just do your job, Griffin. Don't let your stupid infatuation with a stranger reduce you to a damn shy school girl. You got this, own it.'  
Clarke nods at her inner monologue before rounding her bench and approaching the girl for her cup.

As she reaches out for the rim, her eyes capture the liquid still inside the cup. It was full.

"Oh," Clarke said in thought, the girl seated hurriedly removed an earpiece to listen.  
"Was there something you found unsatisfactory about the drink or?" She questioned huskily, generally unsure of why someone would abandon a hot beverage. Let alone one crafted by the artist baristas hands herself!

"No-no." The girl denied quickly, "I lost track of time and totally, uh" her gaze delved into Clarkes "forgot." The brunette looked off to the side.

"Oh well, i'd be happy to make you a replacement?" Clarke offered. _Fuck._

"I'm sorry, i'd be happy to pay for-"

"It's fine, it's on the house." Clarke reassured with a smile, cutting the girl off before she could refuse her offer further.

Clarke rounded her bench with the full cup and saucer and poured it down the sink.  
She retrieved a new set and set to work on the replacement.  
The barista swore she could feel Bellamys eyes on her, so she made sure to look twice as consumed in her objective just to potentially convince him nothing was amiss.

The deed was done, she delivered the piping hot replacement to the girl.  
"Don't forget to drink this one, okay?" Clarke added sweetly but realized it could've come out as gesture of mockery.

The girl turned her face to the side similarly as she had earlier and just murmured a word of thanks.

Clarke felt shut out from this customer now although she thought she'd won the earlier back and forth they had. 'It had been a short encounter.' Clarkes logic weighed in.

Maybe she has some hangups about receiving free stuff? Perhaps she was embarrassed she was thought to be forgetful? What if she just doesn't want the attention Clarke has given her today?

Clarke grimaced at the possibility the girl knew she had sketched her earlier. She felt guilty as if she'd crossed the line of privacy intrusion.

The blonde kicked herself into gear, realizing she had been standing there a little bit too long and had made it officially weird now.

'Good going, Griffin. She probably hates your burnt-ass coffee and was too shy to say it to your face.'

Jeez, her head sure was buzzing with anxiety today, huh.

'This is what pretty girls do to you. Mostly due to your lack of a grip over yourself.'

Yikes, she needed to sleep this infatuation off. Clarke prayed it wouldn't latch itself into her dreams or anything weird. This girl had too much of an effect over her after one measly day, this was bad news.

It had been nearing 2pm so the blonde began to wipe up her station, leaving it spotless for the next barista that clocked on to appreciate what organization looked like.  
She pulled out her blonde locks from her hair tie, allowing her scalp to release all the pent up tension that began an ache in her head. Immediately solved.  
Medical prodigy Miss Dr. Griffin jr. She cringed inwardly at her own roast.

Pulling her aprons fastening free, she unhooked the neck loop from around her head and hung it up. There had been minimal spills today so she wouldn't need to wash it at home just yet.  
"See you tomorrow, Bell. I think Monty's just in the bathroom at the moment, shouldn't be too long." She informed him, slinging her canvas bag over her shoulder.

"Have a good evening, Clarke." With that he cast her off.

* * *

The walk from work was only a couple blocks, though she did have to weave in and out between skyscrapers that took up entire blocks themselves. Though she had the stamina.

She breathed in the sharp scent of damp autumn vegetation. Orange leaves had gathered in the gutters, but there were a couple rogue leaves that had splayed out so completely during the rain fall they're suctioned to the pavement.  
Clarke loved Autumn. By far the most vibrant colour combinations from the foliage year after year. She cherished the decline into Winter too, although her current coat wasn't doing a impeccable job to seal her heat in. She was close to her dorm and that's all that truly mattered. Endurance.

When she entered her respective building she was relieved that the wind that picked up was locked outside, away from her now pink cheeks and nose.

Entering her dorm room with a simple slotting of her key, then noticing Raven, her roommate wasn't in.  
Clarke frowned at this like an upset child. She didn't want to blab about the girl she served today, but she wanted the opportunity to do so.

'Because that makes sense, doesn't it.' her brain mocked her own emotions.

"Shut up me" Clarke said aloud to the empty room.

The blonde hung up her canvas bag and removed her coat to rest directly beside it on a hook.  
Her pale hands dove into her bag, retrieving her art diary and flipping through to the most recent work.

She stared at the rough characteristics of that girl - _the_ girl - that swept her mind away in a flood of inspiration.

It wasn't until several moments passed she realized she'd been smiling at her own artwork.

'Yikes, maybe I am going crazy.'

* * *

Thank you for reading.  
I chose to make Clarke the barista as I've read several other works where Lexa has been the girl with a crush behind the counter.  
Feel free to let me know what you think about this, I'm thinking of producing further chapters to this plot.  
I hope I captured the essence of realism in this introduction.  
My apologies if Lexa is somewhat out of character so far, I know she doesn't have much in the way of dialogue.  
First time writing for the 100 fandom, so bare with me on this one.  
I wanted Clarke and Bellamy to have banter but intentionally as sibling sarcasm.

Anyway, thanks for taking time out of your day to make it this far.  
Would appreciate any comments you can offer.

Have a good one


	2. Of minds and stereotypes

Clarke wakes up with a start. Raising her blonde mop of tangles barely from the pillow which moments prior engulfed her face just to glance at her phone on the nightstand.  
The numbers trembled in her blurry vision.  
6:20am.

 _ugh._

This was becoming a pattern. Regaining consciousness 10 minutes before her alarm was set to rouse her.

Her blue eyes were cloudy as her flesh vessel cocked her head to the side in order to rid the hair stuck to her face.  
The barista resettled beneath her duvet in her chilly shared dorm room.

Her eyes snapped open, stretching her vision. This time out of pure frustration.  
In her adjustment, she had invited the bitter cold into her cozy haven.  
 _Every fucking time_ , Griffin.

The blonde snarled at how pathetic she was before ducking her face beneath her sheets, puffing breath onto her fingers in a vain attempt to encourage circulation.

With her eyes sealed beneath lashes, she resumed her dormancy the best she could. Fake it til you make it.

Her phone began its daily fit, vibrating and emitting a ungodly alarm throughout the room. This happened only once before she threw her sheets away from her torso to silence it with a muttered "Yeah-yeah" of dismissal.

The cold zeroed in on her exposed skin first, then it sank through her clothed areas with unforgiving icy fangs.  
She sucked a breath through her teeth and set her jaw to refrain from shivering.  
It was out of habit to do this as Raven awoke to unusual sounds like chattering teeth. She never so much as cracked an eye for regular alarm tones.  
Clarke found this almost absurd but thought not to question it.

She scrunched up her face before throwing a hand from the mattress to a small handle on her nightstand. Yanking a drawer free from its designated slot, her fingers blindly rummaged for a balled up pair of socks she stashed in there specifically for this reason.

Her arm retreated to the rest of her body. Quickly reworking the socks apart and pulling the toe-savers up her ankles. God bless for past Clarke. Always one step ahead for dire times.

Next phase of action - securing a bra to her chest.  
This task needed more preparation. Majority of the prep was mental.

God, she _hated_ mornings.

She brought her baby-blue bed shirt over her shoulders and collected her deep purple bra she had apparently hung over a notch in her desk chair frame.  
Maneuvering a white body conforming top over her bed head. It relieved her it had longer sleeves than most of her other wardrobe choices.  
She struggled and wiggled into black skinny jeans, securing them at her midriff. They were her high-waist pair. Conveniently they also happened to be the only clean ones as of current.  
Clarke brushed her teeth and spat the accumulated foam into the sink, collecting water in her hand to rinse and effectively guiding the stream from the faucet to rogue froth.  
She tapped the water from her toothbrush against the basin and glanced over to Ravens bed.

The engineer in training had her mouth wide open. Her right arm tucked beneath her collar and forearm pointed floppily around her back.  
Her bestfriends sprawled form made her appreciate the few things that awoke her.

'That girl sure does sleep hard.'

Clarke strode over to her bag hook beside the door and picked up her thicker coat. A thick pale grey hoodie sewn into a light blue faux denim coat.  
She worked it over her arms and shoulders, feeling secure in the many layers it provided. It promised her a future of warmth.  
Nimble hands plucked her dorm keys from its designated hook and slipped them into the coats pocket before quickly slinging her canvas bag over a shoulder.

She forcefully stuffed her feet on their own accord into each shoe. Her brown boots were ankle high with a single functional buckle on each. Not that she ever did them up properly. Artists are very lazy people in almost every facet in life besides the field of art, Clarke would argue.

Unlocking the door and closing it as quietly as possible, she locked it on the other side to secure her unconscious Engineer roommate within.

With a scuff of her loose boots and a grumble in her gut, she set off for the cafeteria.

* * *

The cafeteria was a rather large hall with an abundance of picnic-like tables to encourage groups of students to sit with each other.  
Clarke was thrilled the hall, at this particular hour, had wafted scents of freshly baked bread, coffee and bacon.

The tables were peppered with students all over the place. The company was small so the conversation volume in the room was soft.  
She relished the slow function this early in the work day. Turning her attention from admiring her environment back to the parted pages of her book, she scanned the next couple lines of text. Face soft with ease.

Her free hand brushed her knuckles against the exterior of her cardboard coffee cup. It was a large black coffee which radiated the caffeinated fever from within. Making it almost unbearable for contact a second too long. The sensation kept her fidgeting at bay for now.

A slim blur swung a skinny leg over the opposing bench as a pale hand entered Clarkes line of vision.  
"Mind if i have this, Princess?"

Just like that, the essence of patience in her soul was suctioned from her in a second.

Octavia Blake had picked up the unfinished half of Clarkes breakfast sandwich.  
The food had been somewhat pricey but it made up for it in the ingredients and content.  
The sandwich being so packed full of egg and bacon Clarke was stuffed from the first half.

Clarke closed her book and gave a nod in confirmation, not that Octavia had anticipated it order to begin. Already about halfway through the rest of it. She was chewing a lot as she made the mistake of taking large bites. Clarke relished the struggle that Octavia was unaware she was expressing.

"Hey Lincoln" Clarke offered as acknowledgement. It wasn't that she wasn't fond of Octavias boyfriend, her awkwardness was more due to the fact he was the silent observing type.  
Clarke could respect that of course, it just made conversation on her behalf one sided and hearing her own voice for an extended period of time made her self conscious.

Although he was rather large and muscular, he was a fellow art student. Taking the same class alongside Clarke.

Lincoln nodded in reply to the blonde before slotting a leg over the picnic seat. Setting down two to-go coffees on the table top beside Octavia.

"So I heard you ogled a customer." Octavia blurted out while licking small remnants of bbq sauce off her hands.

Clarkes' sip of coffee was compromised in shock as it was redirected in a snort up the back of her throat, down her nasal passage.  
Milk dripped from her nose as one hand cupped over the lower half of her face and the other one slid around the table blindly in search for a napkin.

Lincoln located one fairly swiftly and handed it into her frantic grabby hand.  
The foreign substance burned through her sinuses and she felt her cheeks flush hot and eyes water.

She leaned back to blink the moisture from her eyes, staring at the ceiling. Holding a scrunched up serviette against her nose as O's cackles died down.

Octavia spoke through her shit eating grin, "Bellamy told me."

"Yeah I _know_ who told you, O." Clarke hissed across the table. Voice more nasally due to the complications with her nose.  
"And I wasn't _ogling_."

"Bell says otherwise." The brunette clipped

"Of course he does. To be stubborn is part of the Blake charm, isn't it?" Clarke fumed. Lincoln chuckled at the fact of her words.

Octavia glanced between the two art students, looking hurt. "Okay, _harsh_."

"Anyway, he said you were sketching up a storm when staring at them."

"Sounds more like Bellamy was ogling me, O." Clarke countered.

"Oh, stop. _Gross_." The younger Blake wrinkled her nose in distaste.

The blonde glanced down to her wrist with a small smile from the banter. "Almost time for art class" Clarke breathed out, rising to her feet.

Lincoln shifted sideways on the seat and tilted his head back to consume the final dregs of his morning brew.

He crushed the empty cup downwards to the table with his palm before leaning forward to capture Octavia in a farewell kiss.  
"I'll pick you up later." He murmured before he reeled back to stand and walk with Clarke to their respective first lesson of the day.

* * *

Art class had been pretty standard to say the least. They were given a brief 15 minute overview of what the teacher expected of their upcoming project, what mediums are available for use, what themes are appropriate etc.  
Lincoln had already pitched his idea for his piece - a portrait of his subject (Octavia) made completely out of tiles.

Clarke was thinking more along the lines of painting a forest monet style. No definitive lines of each subject in the work, just colours representing them individually.  
She spent the majority of the lesson chewing her bottom lip and using a spare piece of paper to depict her thoughts on her project.

At one point she flicked open her art diary, quickly glancing at each pages works until she landed on the most recent.

The girl at the coffee shop. The sketch didn't do the stranger justice. Capturing the true essence of someone is something Clarke really intended to establish this year in college.  
When she saw Lincoln turn his head her way she quickly flicked the page over to a fresh one.

He was busy on his laptop, typing into a word document the details of his project. What kinds of tiles, where he'd buy the materials from, what scale he desired for the piece. He was very calculated like that.  
She glanced his way, seeing the smaller art pad open to a particular drawing of Octavia. His pencil work was impeccable.

"Wow Lincoln, that's stunning." She said furrowing her brow. He was full of surprises, it seemed.

"You think so? I'm not set just yet on whether on not I want this drawing to be the piece."

"Whatever you produce will be brilliant by the looks of it." She said in all honesty.

He gave her a small smile which she returned. It was mutual, he didn't have to say thanks.

She preferred his quiet nature. It meant she didn't have to push conversation like with more talkative artists their class had. If she wanted to zone out all lesson, it was her choice.

Before she knew it, she'd taped in her scrappy plan sheet onto the blank page she'd had open all lesson. She scribbled about colours, the types of paints she'd use, why a monet style painting and why a forest.

The lesson was over before she had the chance to comprehend all the other students had made significantly more progress than she had.

She promised to dedicate her thought process during her shift later that she'd think more about her project. This was her only lesson for the day, her English lecture had been cancelled.

The blonde pulled on her coat and gave her farewell to Lincoln.

Beginning the walk from campus to the cafe in which she worked.

* * *

She entered the shop, the chime went off overhead and the pungent smell of coffee slammed into her senses. Stimulating her through scent alone.

The air was stagnant within the interior of the cafe which she appreciated as she shrugged off her coat in the backroom. Hanging the garment over the same hook her bag resided on.

As it approached 11:15am, the vibe within the store was barely above a crawl. A couple customers murmured back and forth over their coffees. No ruckus, only a few tables to wipe down and collect dishes from.

Clarke fiddled with her aprons cords, securing it around her waist as she approached the barista counter.  
Her arms were brought back to her sides as she cast her gaze down to Monte, whom was currently using the sandwich press to heat a croissant.

The blonde made her way out onto the floor with a sterilized cloth to wipe down previous used tables.  
Water residue left behind on the tops of tables evaporated soon enough after application.

Her pale hands stacked large to small plates on top one another to make for a simple trip back to the sink.

The barista heaved the collection of dishes and carted them through to the back of the store. She made eye contact with Monty and offered a friendly smile which he returned mutually. During this, she heard the front of the store chime in indication of a new customer.

She set the plates down before turning to the front of the store. She was spooked by the stranger who'd already approached the order portion of the bench.  
Clarkes pale blue eyes landed on pronounced tan collarbones before a slender neck and finally, a face.

Her face. Clarke was stunned. The mystery girl she had sketched from across the room had returned to the cafe so soon.

Green eyes eased the girls otherwise dark features. Their gaze held each others for a moment before the Barista allowed her face to drop into a welcoming smile.

"Hi, how may I help you?" Her voice husky from not being used since she spoke to Lincoln in art class.

"I'd like a tall latte" The girl said, not breaking eye contact with Clarke.

The blonde was dissected underneath this girls gaze, or at least that's how she felt. The brunette was taller than Clarke.

She broke gaze in order to look down and process the transaction.

"To go or have in?" Clarke asked, using the touch screen for a little longer than necessary to avoid the girls intense eyes.

"Have in." Her soft murmur escaped those puffy lips Clarke willed herself not to look at.

The artist inhaled deeply, trying to resolve herself before glancing back up to the girl with a bright smile, "That comes to about $4.15"

The brunette handed Clarke 4 dollar bills and a quarter pinched against the notes. In retrieving the amount, Clarkes thumb brushed against the strangers' and she stiffly looked back to the open till to put away the money.

"Keep the change." The girl added before moving away from the counter to seat herself, once again, at table 4.  
Clarke had the spare change pinched in her fingers when she decided she'd just put it on the saucer when she brought the customer her the latte.

It isn't long before the coffee is prepared to the best of her barista capability and placed on the saucer beside the change.

She brought it over to the mysterious brunette, situating it intentionally beside her laptop same as last time.

Clarke didn't mention her drink order or anything, remembering how the girl avoided her so consistently towards the end of their last ordeal.  
She walked back to her post behind the barista counter and unlocked her phone. Two can play the ice queen game.

She groaned, 3 missed calls from her Mom. She sighed. It had been a while since she had spoken to the Doctor.

With a click, she locked her phone and slid it into her back pocket.

Clarke puffed out her cheeks and cast her gaze down to the floor before flicking it back over to the girl who typically hid behind her laptop screen.

Oh

The attractive customer was already looking directly at her.

 _Oh._

It was a short lived moment as she quickly raised her latte to her lips, taking a long sip.

Clarke looked away, not wanting to intrude on the unusual girl further. She didn't want another complaint filed against her since that chocolate powder ordeal 5 months ago.

Her shift remained at a snails pace, aside from her break where she had to resist the urge to draw the tan girl and her bright distracting eyes.

It came down to failure though. Clarke sketched the girls lashes and eye shape, filling them in as accurately as she could remember of their brief contact.

She wondered what job the girl must have to require so much text. Clarke could heard the clack of the keyboard from the opposing side of the cafe.  
The customer was constantly typing, hands gracing the keys expertly and punched in surely thousands of words as her lattes fever subsided.

Today she was wearing some sort of shirt with a collar beneath an over sized jumper that fell down the tan ones forearms whenever she leaned her head against a fist or fiddled with the hair at her nape in the few moments she stopped typing. Pausing and perhaps reviewing the product of her hard work, Clarke thought. Not that she had been paying attention.

The blue eyed barista put it down to mere coincidence she caught the girl looking at her earlier in her shift. The brunette certainly wasn't now, which brought Clarke to the swift conclusion the girl didn't care for the blonde. She was probably another oblivious heterosexual wondering why some other assumed straight girl would be staring at her.

Clarke snorted at this theory, which was the likely reality of the situation.  
'You... _straight_.' she scoffed to herself before letting out a single chuckle at her post.

In order to keep herself busy, she wiped down the counter tops, squeezed in a brief catch up session with Monty in the backroom before she was needed to make another brew.

This customer was a more mature woman who looked to be about 45. This woman was plump, had some striking greys streaking through her shorter wind swept hair and was very generous on the conversational front with Clarke at the register.

It was refreshing to talk and joke in spite of the slow business.  
God knows she wasn't going to get any more words out of the macbook girl.

The lady managed to sneak in a few comments about how dull customers can be at which Clarke just laughed in response.

She returned the change from the customers cash to her and let her know it'd be brought over the moment it was done with one of her brightest and most genuine smiles that day.

Clarke set to work frothing the milk to a silky texture, her brow furrowed in concentration. It was one quick second glance to the brunette at table 4, she noticed the girls right ear piece was dangling at her chest. It was an odd detail but whatever.

The blonde brought over the womans coffee and struck up a small additional chat before parting to man her half of the store.

This time when Clarke observed the brunette, both headphones were in. She chewed her lip in frustration, just wanting her shift to finish already when mystery girl rose, sliding her chair behind her with the backs of her knees.

She unplugged her headphones and wound them up quickly before tucking them in a pocket on her hip. Closing her laptop with wave of her hand and flipping her notebook closed.  
The book was slotted into her bag orderly as her macbook was secured beneath her armpit, close to her person.

Clarke averted her gaze intentionally. Not wanting to create a weird departing atmosphere for the customers send off.

The girl circled around closer to the counter with a single ear piece in, her brown hair hanging elegantly around her face.  
What-had she just pouted at Clarke?

The girls eyes were dark, perhaps not on Clarkes face but elsewhere close to her?  
Those lips puffed out any more than usual made the blonde trip a little.

The customer departed out the front door and refrained from casting her eyes back into the cafe when walking by one of the two large windows.

The barista was stunned.

What did it mean that the stranger had intentionally gone a longer route to the exit, looking Clarkes way voluntarily and moved her damn mouth in such an alluring fashion.  
The blonde released the breath she wasn't aware she withheld.  
Ol' Griffin didn't stand a chance.

This was bad. The brunette was probably straight. Perhaps that's exactly why she seemed so irresistible to Clarke.  
The barista had never been a victim of the infamous gay crush on a straight girl cliche.

Her jaw set and her blood streaked frosty through her veins.

Oh god, Clarke was becoming a cliche.

She passed a hand through her blonde locks in an attempt to soothe herself further from her conclusion.

The remainder of her shift was zoning out and periods where she absentmindedly hummed to herself when wiping down the rest of the previously used table tops.

* * *

The stuffy room spun around her as she slammed the butt of her shot glass to the chipped dorm coffee table.  
She knew this wasn't her residence and as she had witnessed it becoming more and more trashed, she thanked god for the fact.

Clarke flicked her blonde waves out of her sight is a misguided lull of her head. It would've been a much swifter and effective maneuver had she been sober.  
She looked down to her watch. It was 9:38 and she recalls arriving at the front door at about 8? She wasn't certain.

A tan hand smacked its palm on her left knee, squeezing for emphasis as the being beside her cackled uncaring at the ceiling.

Clarke smiled at the person, Raven, who's signature red jacket was tucked half way into the couch cushion beside the arm rest.

The blonde, in her own drunken stupor had completely forgotten what they'd been conversing about in the short moments prior of that shot.  
Spirits gave her confidence to spill, not the intelligence to choose what she spilled wisely.

"S-so you're telling me," Raven slurred, lurching forward. Her chest touching her own thighs "That you're infatuated with a straight girl you've served twice?"

Clarke chuckled lightly with a grin, not floored the same way her roomie was at the fact.  
"Yeah"

"Clarke, you're so-" The engineer gestured, both her palms facing upward and close together. Expression narrow like she'd dabbled in lemon slices that evening "utterly bizarre." Raven gushed, throwing her arms apart in example of an explosion.

"I think she sounds like an ice queen. Stay away sweet gay Clarke" Octavia confessed her opinion from the opposing side of Clarke. Throwing her hands around Clarkes neck to pull her into an embrace.

The blonde could only cackle at the young Blake being an affectionate drunk this evening.  
Though she was having her head petted and it was as comforting as ever.

They were a trio of monkeys at this party. They didn't even particularly know the owners of the apartment.

Some guy called Murphy owned it. Clarke squinted trying to recollect the facts of her environment but shrugged away the effort.

"Aw, O. You're so caring when you're drunk." Clarke laughed out, leaning back against Blakes front.

"Don't be rude. I'm always caring." She said before turning her nose up in defiance.

"Hey, hey" Lincoln said as he appeared through the front door to the flat. A small smile on his mouth softening his otherwise intense features, looking directly at his plastered girlfriend who's sunken into the couch.

"What's up Lincoln, m'man!" Raven slurred out tensing her hand into a fist for a bro bump. He awkwardly knuckle bumped Reyes and she threw both hands over her head, face scrunched up with a loud whispered "Woo!" emitted from her wild agape mouth.

"Is it really time to go already?" Octavia said in a half baby voice. Some kind of puppy eyed technique she probably learned to get out of strife Bellamy dished her way as children. Clarke scoffed and rose from the couch, standing beside the fellow art student.

"Sure is, babe." Lincoln sighed, offering his hand down to her to take to hoist her up.

"Aww." She whined, placing her much smaller hand in his and being effectively lifted from that sinkhole of furniture.

The four made their way from the off campus apartment, Raven and Clarke in tow of the couple.

A small row of parking spaces before the outlining perimeter of a park further before them.

The dim lights that were lightly peppered around the place lit up small areas of sidewalk accompanied by green lush grass.

Clarke, in her numb intoxication, closed her eyes and took in the outside scene.

Fresh mountain air swept from the distance and swirled between buildings here. The breeze chilling her cheeks and played with her hair gently.  
The unique scent of moisture, she heard the chipping of sprinklers further from her. The walk really cleared her head from the last drink of the night.

By the time she opened her eyes, Lincoln had already slotted himself into the drivers seat of his car. The interior lights on as the back door was still open, Raven climbing hands and knees into the opposing side seat to the window. The soft colours of her spectacular friends made her chest expand and her eyes water.

She needed to stop this emotion before it became embarrassing. Perhaps she was as out of the woods as she had first thought.  
Clarke let out a laugh and sniffled into the wrist cuff of her sweater, wiping away the bubbling affection for her oblivious friends.

"C'mon Princess, the heaters on!" O called from the passengers seat. Interior light shining directly over her forehead.

Clarke chuckled further, "Yeah yeah" and climbed in after Raven.

* * *

Please _pls_ let me know how you feel about this story line in a review  
Sorry if it didn't have enough Lexa in it, again. I'm working her in as realistically as I can. I'm all about that realism  
Hopefully you readers are on board for a third installment and don't mind how I approach the clexa relationship.  
I do have a good build to tie it all together, I know it might seem I'm beating around the bush haha

Let me know what you think in a review and thank you for taking time out of your day to read my work.

: )


	3. You can't always get what you want

The sun streaming through the large windows of the art room blasted Clarke blind.  
Her head thudded of monstrous scale as she held her forehead from her forearm rested on the table.

She had thought a second prior that perhaps removing her shades wouldn't be too drastic of an idea and she was wrong.  
That's right. Clarke Griffin was _wrong_. She was happy to admit it, too. If it meant she could seal the dark lenses back over her violated corneas.  
Which it did and Octavia howled with laughter as she returned the sunglasses.

On this occasion, O was allowed in the Art room as the teacher was away and there was no substitute.  
This meant the class was basically cancelled but most serious art students would appear during the designated hour and use their time wisely as they normally would under supervision. Clarke would normally note how she appreciated her fellow passionate artists but not today.

Today was strong, boiling coffee and lots of carbs.

Last night was a haze of vodka being spilled through the crotch of her black jeans, chainsmoking out on the veranda within record time and being slapped on the back for making a positive impression through the sport of beerpong.

Her nails picked at the masking tape that had her name scribbled over it in sharpie on the cover of her art diary.

Octavia only watched over her severely hungover friend with amusement forming on her face in a smirk.  
The brunette was younger so her body processed alcohol quicker. And it helped that Lincoln not only got her to eat and drink a large glass of water but he managed to get her to have 2 aspirin before she passed out for the night. She looked to her left at her boyfriend in smitten appreciation.

He caught his girlfriends gaze after a moment of lingering and a small smile graced his features as he asked "What?" innocently.

"I love you" Octavia smoothed out trying not to make a scene of affection but beaming nevertheless.

Clarkes arms slipped off the table and slapped down by her sides as she uttered a "Don't make me barf"  
Her forehead creased in worry as she feared her own words.

"Oh shut up, Clarke" Octavia scolded at which Clarke winced at her friends volume. Lincoln chuckled at the exchange from either side of him.

The blonde threw open her art diary it landed on a page at half the content of the pages. One of the first few sketches of the girl at the cafe.

Octavia noticed the change on her best friends face and jolted to tear the book of artworks from the artist.

"No!" Clarke shrieked as Octavia moved just a second faster.

"Is this _her?_ " O began what the blonde could only imagine to be an interrogation of sorts. She was always the one to need the info, the gossip. Any scrap of drama she could snatch from her best friends mouths she relished in. Perhaps she was the Queen bee in another life.

Clarke only groaned before landed her forehead on the art table top.

"Wow, she's stunning." Octavia comments breathlessly. Passing a fingertip over the now water coloured drawing Clarke did of the girls eyes.

"Your admiration sure does give the art a little extra, Princess" O teased, briefly looking at the pencil work of a sitting pose in the corner of the first artwork Clarke made of the Latte girl.

Lincoln furrowed his brow in thought at Clarkes illustrations and glanced off to the side for a moment before giving his head a shake and relaxing his face.  
Octavia noticed the shift in her boyfriend and questioned accordingly "What's up?"

He breathed looking up to meet her gaze, feign surprise. "Oh nothing." He dismissed before taking a sip of the coffee he brought to class.

Octavia eyed him for a moment longer in suspicion but continued on admiring her best friends expressed talent on the pages of her book.

* * *

"I think you should ask her out." Octavia mentioned over a bite of pasta.

"What." Clarke replied trying to allow her gulp of soda to settle. Her hand lightly touching her collarbone as she arched her neck some, refusing the feeling of reflux.

"Yeah, what?" Raven added from further down the lunch table, even more in the dark about the unfolding of Clarkes crush.

"I'm just saying, if you like her then I think you should give her a try." Octavia suggested, not meeting either of their eyes with a shrug of her shoulders.  
Her pasta must be so interesting.

"O, she's probably straight." Clarke reminded in defense.

"The girl from the cafe?" Raven butted in with a wave of her spork. Still trying to catch up to the content of discussion.

"If you ask her out, you'll find out won't you?" Octavia replied ignoring Raven.

"The chances are so skewed and even if she was gay I doubt i'd be in the few she'd probably aim to be with."

A silence hung over the table as the young Blake finished chewing, deep in thought on how to respond.

" _And_ what if she's not single?" Clarke wheezed out, her mind crowded with the numerous anomalies in how asking the mystery girl could go sour.

"Then ask her on a platonic date? Maybe being her friend is the safest approach." Raven replied in place of Octavia who only nodded towards her encouragingly.

"Exactly. Give her your number. Great suggestions, Raven." Octavia closed her eyes in thanks. Treating the conversation of Clarkes crush as if it were a class discussion of a novel.

"I'm not doing that. She'd probably take it in offense and never return." Clarke answered, the scenarios playing through her head.

"All you can do is try" Raven finished, keeping her eyes down on her plate of food. Managing the final word into the heated discussion.

Clarke was left for her own thoughts on the suggestions her friends sprouted to stew as she stared into the open cup of her soda.

Neon orange, carbonation rising to the top just to burst. Just like all the excitement of seeing the stranger at the cafe burst as she didn't have anything to say to her and she seemed to avoid Clarke as much as possible while remaining in her presence.

She sipped the zesty tangy and sweet beverage up into her mouth. Zoning out as the remainder of her friends begin to converse about classes they've had, strange student run ins, teachers that are rad, what have you.

Clarke thought blindly on the topic of the girl who stole most of her attention. Precious attention she needed to use elsewhere for productive purposes.  
All this girl got her to do was draw and paint. Not anything but her.

It annoyed the blonde. Got under her skin within the few encounters they'd shared together in the cafe where she worked. The seething thing she disliked most was how she awaited the girl every shift. There wasn't a way in hell Clarke was about to ask Bellamy or Monte if the cute tall tan girl had come in for a latte. Her primary friendship circle knew now and she already dreaded any time they were to mention it.  
Stupid drunk Clarke and her terrible ideas to blab about anything personal.

Her blue eyes watched the transparent outline of her ice clash into one another at the center of the drink where she got a tap on her shoulders.

"Clarke?" Octavia asked, face contorted in worry for her friend.

"Huh? Sorry, what were you saying?" Clarke encouraged for more information. Being pulled from her minds rambling was startling.

"We were thinking about going to the movies this evening, wanna come?" Raven pitched again, though she made it sound like the first time.

"Oh no, I really have to crack down on my art assessment. You have a great time though." She said with a smile.

"Try not to circle your whole art career around one girl, loverboy" Octavia poked with a smirk as she rose alongside the others.

Clarke tried to smile in return, knowing O's comment was a joke. In all seriousness her inspiration had her worried. She wore the same grimace all the way to the art room.

* * *

Clarke had crashed hard that evening. Raven hadn't been in so she hadn't gotten to almost talk about how she totally is making her assessment piece of the cafe girl.  
She was going to change up several things about her though, despite her wanting to recreate the girls fresh face as identically to the original as she could.

Then it'd be a portrait and Clarke figured that'd be far too unsettling to do of a random stranger that had been the object of her gaze several times.  
It invaded the blondes integrity to think about intruding on someones privacy.

In Clarkes mind, if she could take the girls image but evolve it into something else, it wouldn't be weird.  
Turn the girl into a being threatening, war torn and scarred. A creature of the apocalypse that burned for peace. At least that's what the essay following the art piece would say.  
The girl would be caked in red and murky smudges of dirt, her eyes framed by dark black soot to distort her breathtaking elegance beneath the facade.

Although she had made large progress, it was a large canvas and there was still so much to do. Colours to blend, things to touch up, lights and darks needed to be emphasized for the dramatic effect it needed to have. A light source coming from an angle away but also behind the face. A lot of work remained to be done.

She had done a couple sketches of what the new version of her character would look like, different angles, what she wanted to finished product to look like.  
Clarke preyed it'd come together in the end as they assessment pieces were to be showcased and auctioned off. A portion of the money would go to the artists pockets but the bulk would help fund the art supplies and stock.

The blonde had stomped exhausted up the stairs of the building and threw her homes door open wide before barreling into her bed.

When she awoke few things became apparent to her within the few minutes her eyes strained open.  
She had fallen asleep in her painters smock, which was a large mens shirt that had remnant oil and acrylic paints splotched all over.  
The second being she was late for her shift at the cafe.

She barely scrounged enough time to brush her teeth before she bolted from the dorm. Her layered coat over the smock, a hair tie at her wrist, pants unzipped but buttoned to stay taut around her hips and her boots laces whipping around slapping the pavement as she hauled ass to her job several blocks away.

The blondes hair streamed behind her as her thighs burned, there was someone who in contrast to Clarkes strenuous workout, appeared to dawdle down the sidewalk.  
Clarke zipped in front of them swiftly, almost losing her footing up the gutter.

One more corner. She hissed through her teeth at the fact, so close.

The door chimed overhead as gasped for breath, the few patrons already seated in the warm cafe glanced at her in shock.

She made her way down the middle of both halves of the store to the back room, where she tucked the oversized shirt into her pants as best she could to make it appear a normal blouse. Tied up her boot laces, shrugged off her coat and placed it over her back as per usual, secured her apron to behind her back and combed her hands through her hair in efforts to smooth the disheveled sex look. She settled for a hairstyle of half up, half down. Made her look like she knew what she was doing, yeah.

Phew.

She only managed to be 4 minutes late and despite Bellamy wanting to scold her for being reckless, he was utterly impressed with the distance she covered in such a small time frame. Clarke hated running. Worst function her body could perform. Only partook when utterly necessary.

She released one last large breath before composing herself and making her way to the barista stand.

The chime went off at the front of the store, gathering Clarkes attention.

The mystery girl entered in sports shorts, knee high socks and sneakers, A light grey tank top falling loosely off her smooth exposed shoulders revealing the straps of a dark blue sports bra and a chiseled collar bone. A duffel bag slung off her strong shoulder with a hockey stick jutted out from the zipper

Her cheeks were tinged pink and her forehead shone in the dim lighting of the cafe interior.  
The brunette placed her duffel bag beside table 4 and walked back over to the bench.

Clarke stood like a deer in headlights as the girl of her attention approached to order.  
A tan hand passed through the locks to the side of her cheek, pulling it out in a mesmerizing silken slide of the girls fingers.

The blonde was paralyzed, mouth agape, glancing back into the opposing girls eyes.

They were deeper green, a shadowed forest green, that impaled her. The girl pursed her lips as she looked at Clarke.

"I'd like a tall latte" the girl said, her eyes narrowing only a fraction as if sizing the blonde up.

Clarkes chipped nail polish fingers worked the screen as she only half paid attention to the process.

"That comes to-"

"$4.15." The brunette finished, raising her hand into Clarkes line of vision. The same 4 dollar notes and a quarter pinched flat against them.

The barista extended her hand for the cash before a quick glance back up into green as the customer uttered a "Keep the change."

Clarke noticed something. The girls lips quivered a fraction upward at the sides of her mouth. Did that matter? Mean something even?  
The blonde couldn't be certain it wasn't wishful thinking, though that interaction was tense. She shook the thought out of her head.

She retrieved the nickel of change and arranged it on a saucer and began preparing the latte for the girl at table 4.

Clarke approached table 4, the brunette had her laptop out as usual. The barista removed a fresh serviette from her apron pocket and placed it orderly beneath the designated area for the saucer.

The customer didn't have her earphones in at all today, nodding up to meet Clarkes eyes with a "Thank you."

The artist was at a loss on how to evaluate their interactions now. "It's my pleasure." Clarke replied smoothly with a small smile before retreating back into her station.

She combed over the environment of the cafe, the seated customers were served and talking among themselves as people do in company.  
Stealthily she retrieved her phone from her back pocket, pulling up her messages to the younger Blake.

 _I don't know._

 _What?_

 _She's paying attention to me today_

 _The girl at the cafe?_

 _Yeah._

 _Then go for it!_

 _I can't she's more stunning in person, O._

 _How is that possible, Clarke._

Clarke looked up from her phone screen to table 4. Seeing green eyes flicker back to the brunettes laptop.

 _I don't know, believe me._

 _God, you're truly out the deep end, Griffin._

 _Shh._ She sent, letting out a defeated sigh. Before her eyes widened in dinner plate fashion.

 ** _Don't tell Bellamy._**

 _I'll make no such promises, Princess._

Clarke hissed out a second sigh through her teeth. Still uncertain whether telling Octavia was beneficial in any way.

* * *

Break came eventually and the girl at table 4 clacked her fingertips over her keyboard as usual.

Clarke shed her apron and perched atop her favourite stool at the front left of the store. Although her attention was nevertheless brought into the interior, to the figure who only seemed to replicate the warm tones the lights provided. Glowing on her side of the space, Clarke sketched the girls outline and smudged the lead for deeper tones. Shading in the space around the object of the piece, making her pop from the page.

Clarke penciled in the lines of the surroundings, creating perspective of the angle.  
She sighed, turning away to face out the large window.

This girl was consuming her. Chewing her up through the details and the small things she did. Clarke was being a creep, she knew it.

She closed her art diary, feeling suffocated by her own terrible inspiration. She strut her way back to the backroom and stuffed her book inside her canvas bag.  
Spending the remaining minutes of her break in the backroom, trying to reconstruct her approach to her art objective.

* * *

The latte girl departed with one last mutually held gaze Clarkes way before walking down the sidewalk past the large open windows of the shop. Never looking in once.

Clarkes shift wrapped up in the few hours following. She took it upon herself during that period of time to clear table 4 and wipe down other previously used tables.  
In clearing table 4, she noticed a dark maroon jumper beside the table?  
She couldn't see it from the barista station as the table top hid it completely.

The blonde put the jumper the right way through itself. It had 'Captain' in white lettering on the back and a familiar logo for a college just out of state.  
She plays hockey for the Grounders for college trikru? Clarke put together in her head.

The blonde bunched the sweater in her canvas bag and made her way back to her dorm.

* * *

Clarke burst through the door, hanging up her coat and bag.

Raven perched at her desk with the lamp heating her engineering papers, a cup of noodles steamy beside her.

"What's up?" Raven asked, not drawing attention from her task at hand.

"I found out she's from out of town."

"That's rough." The genius replied with only a hint of sympathy. "So you properly spoke to her?"

Clarkes muffled groan came from the second bed in the room.

"Clarke, did you talk to her?"

"I didn't, okay?" The blonde used her feet to slide her boots from her heels. "I know she's from out of town because I collected her hockey sweater for Trikru college she accidentally left behind at the cafe."

"That's good, now you have a topic to break the ice when you return it to her."

"I'l keep that in mind." Clarke gurgled, feeling defeated by fate.

Her evening ended there, slightly less dressed than she was upon entering the dorm. A thin sheet thrown over her torso horizontally. This fact her brain couldn't fathom in the middle of the night, so she spent the entire period from 1 in the morning to 3:25 am struggling to stretch a sheet in ways it was never intended for.

Raven snorted from across the room at the fidgety and very frustrated Griffin. Blood shot eyes revealed to her the blonde breathlessly cursing at her own unconscious predicament.

Reyes crossed the space that separated the two halves of the dorm and, with the last of her strength from her final coffee an hour prior, raised the thicker mass of duvet up and over her best friend.

'Jesus, Clarke. You need all the help you can get.'

* * *

Clarke had arrived for work the following morning 20 minutes earlier of her shift. This being due to her sleep being interrupted by Reyes pacing through her half of the dorm, muttering about programming and code. Her whispering only grew more furious as she repeatedly slapped her palm to her forehead, as if to condition herself to know her entire cheat sheet. A cheat sheet all coded in genius abbreviation Raven had formulated the day earlier.

The blonde wasn't in the slightest amused about this, though she figured she could turn one wrong into a right that morning.  
'Early bird catches the worm, right?' She phrased to herself internally.

Griffin entered the premises and ordered a coffee over the counter. Bellamy only smirked at her as she shrugged off her reasons for being early as he had pitched the possibility of her cleaning for an extra quarter hour.

"I'm not cleaning anything unless there's a sweet paycheck in tow, Bell." She said through a thin grimace, her eye brows raised for the hairline.

"Can I fire staff for being reasonable?" He asked rhetorically with squinted eyes and a ridiculous pout of faux thought.

She shrugged and let out a light laugh "This land of the free ain't that free." A tight smile graced her face as her brows lowered into regular stance.

He returned a toothy grin before finishing up processing the transaction on the touch screen. He moved out of sight behind the espresso machine to fix her order.

Her fingers fiddled with small oblong shapes of collected material lint deep against the seam in her jacket pockets. She turned from the counter and looked into the isolated white of outside. It'd been a frosty morning. Dew that'd turned autumn leaves a sodden brown hardened into delicate icicles around the perimeter of the leaves. Potholes that'd accumulated rain had glazed over with a sheet of ice. Her nose along with the apples of her cheeks lost blood flow and tinted pink. And it was only Autumn.

She had seated herself off to the middle left of the store. The cafe was dead on Saturdays which meant she had more choice on where to settle. On any other day she'd mention how being in the center of a room makes her feel vulnerable and awkward. Being the center meant she objectively wouldn't get to observe the majority of the environment.  
This meant her 'surroundings' were always closer to 'the world before Clarke Griffin'.

Clarke hummed as Bellamy approached with her steaming cappuccino. Her coworkers were never shy with the cocoa powder ever since her own example of assault that one time.  
Her brain sighed at the memory, still able to smell the milk that had dried on her that day. Today wasn't the sort where she'd chuckle at the absurdity of the situation she found herself in that fateful shift.

The eldest Blake gave a nod as he sent down the drink and went on with his duties as supervisor.

Clarke stirred an additional sugar into her mug of coffee. Knowing Bellamy knew she'd always have two in her typical order but today she'd wanted a large.  
She had the time on her hands to savor it.

The metal spoon disturbed the chocolate dust and combined it all into a pleasant aroma.

She breathed the scent from the mug, feeling the steamy caffeine energize right down to her toes.

Clarke had taken a sip. Thinking to the foreign sweater in her very familiar canvas bag.  
It had been weird she had taken the article of clothing home with her, yes. She grimaced at the thought. Why is it some people just evoke the creep from within?  
The blonde frowned further at her past actions.  
Dammit, this was meant to be a tranquil start to the day.

She sighed and leaned back in her chair, bringing her hands to her face to remove remnants of sleep from her eyes.  
Anything to avoid the crazy person she was inside, at least for a moment. No matter how brief.

An entire song had faded into the next and still she remained sitting on her lonesome, half a coffee down with her dimpled chin rested in her hand.

The entrance chimed to her left as she stopped biting a nail out of habit and glanced to the figure arriving.

Pale blue eyes recognized the first shape- er, being.

it was the latte girl Clarke had awaited out of genuine intrigue rather than her own logical intention.  
She felt an uncharacteristic surge of bitterness at how this one customer had modified her place of work into a one-sided tense ordeal she drowned in turmoil over.  
This was followed by guilt at how strong and unusual her moods shifted within seconds of an immediate presence.

The latte girl had turned her face from whomever was in tow and their eyes connected within an instant.  
The previous small smile the brunette sported became sealed into an expression of familiarity, but indifference, as her green eyes remained as unwavering as ever.

Clarke only drank in the familiar presence.  
What she wore- A hooded coat that was lined in fur trim, it's colour a burnt burgundy.  
Beneath appeared to be a pale mint green sweater and a white dress shirt even father beneath that. Clarke only assumed this from the white collar that hugged the brunettes slender neck. Her hair cascaded down her left shoulder in a mass of small braids and curls. The light green from her eyes always reversed the girls image from downright dominating to something softer. The combination of white shirt and green sweater brought out her eyes further. She was almost a friend, almost kind, almost daring Clarke to try her.

A whirlwind of emotion made the hurricane shutters of Clarkes feelings slam every which way, igniting a chain reaction that only filled her head with a fog.

Her mind stalled when the latte girl strode her long high waisted black jean-clad legs past the blonde and blue eyes observed the individual in tow of the first.

This woman was narrow in the face with high cheekbones. An even shape from the bridge of her nose to the tip. Harsh eyes and a hard look to her.  
Her hair was a dirty blonde and her gaze bit into Clarke like a ravenous wolf of winter.  
Clarke knew it sounded dramatic on her end but this woman was threatening and she couldn't pinpoint why this was.

The narrow-faced woman wore a similar fur-fringed coat; hers was a dull green and the fur was agouti. The blonde had a better glimpse as she followed past her table.

Clarke raised the mug to her lips and tried to not be disappointed at the chilled portion of her coffee.  
She would've appreciated the disappointment if it had distracted her from the girl who soaked up every half of each thought Clarke could scrape together on a good day.

Now all she was doing was gulping down the last of barely warm coffee and noticing the undissolved sugar grains that tumbled unmercifully down her throat.

As the latte girl stood in front of the bench, facing Bellamy who had his best infectious grin on, not returning any pleasantries to the staff.  
Clarke stifled a dark laugh. One she wasn't sure was out of amusement of how cold the girl she crushed so foolishly hard on or if it was how much she too had attempted to encourage the girl to be socially fluent in cues. So fruitlessly, too. Clarke sank alongside her dampened spirits.

Why did she have such high expectations for a _stranger?_ That's absurd.

Despite all murky, displeased and conflicted emotions were streaming through her, she found herself clicking her ballpoint pen into function and sketching the back/side of the girl in the red coat on her serviette. Capturing the volume of the customers brunette waves and the lines of this particular angle of her face. She added a few creases to the coat and the knees of her jeans. A small roughly lined shadow beneath the girl on the napkin, she hummed as the ink flowed from her hand to accurately depict the customer.

Clarke had finished her scribble fest as the two tan women retreated to table 4, not so far away from the blondes current position.

As they sat, Griffin rose. Collecting her bag from the floor and securing the dish in her hand to wash up her mug in the small minutes before her shift.  
The napkin folded and slipped into the pocket of her coat.

She hung up her coat and left her sweater on. It was a neutral temperature throughout the cafe so it didn't particularly matter how many layers remained on her back.

Blue eyes passed over her canvas bag as she saw the radiant crimson glow from the sweater concealed within her bag against the interior.  
She chewed her bottom lip. There was no way she was going to strike up a conversation with the brunette now. She had company and it might come off as rude to break into their shared time together.

That was another thing. Clarke had no idea what the nature of the bond between the two was. Cousins? Siblings? Friends? Coworker associate? _Drug dealer?_  
The blonde snorted at the last pitch. Then, upon recalling the magnitude of the green coated womans gaze, second guessed the joke.

She shook the idea from her head. _Get a hold of yourself, Griffin._

Then, when she had finished tying her apron around her waist, looked over to the two seated. They were immersed in conversation, Clarke assumed.  
Though neither really seemed to open their mouths too much as they spoke. The blonde scrunched her brows together at the minimalist nature of the two.  
A thought struck her and she took a single step backwards to the back room.

 _Closeted lesbian couple on a date._

Clarke felt her heart seize a fraction off beat. She didn't know what to make of this half assumption, half product of her rapid-fire caffeinated brain.  
They weren't causing a ruckus because they're together. _Why did that make so much sense._  
 _  
At least she's gay,_ opportunist Clarke weighed in. Stroking her metaphorical beard.

 _Shut up, we don't know that._ Logic Clarke fired back.

"What was that?"

The artist looked up in startle, meeting the very present gaze of her supervisor, Bellamy Blake.

"What?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head softly at the floor, looking amused though utterly confused. Perhaps this gesture from him signified it was simply too early to be dealing with nonsense.

"You're an enigma, Griffin." He humored her.

Clarke scrunched her face in further confusion and parted her lips to question the boy with brown curls but he was faster.

"Could you take those mugs to table 4?

"Certainly." She replied before it sank in. _No, fuck. Not table 4.  
_  
Her supervisor observed her hesitate before the drinks.

"Is everything okay, Clarke?" Bellamy asked, though his genuine concern warmed his voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She replied with a small nod and a tight smile in confirmation to her own lie.

He slowly turns from her to begin manning the food counter.

She reluctantly carried both drinks on a circular tray to their recipients; her crush and her crushes drug-dealer coworker-associate closet-lesbian girlfriend.

Clarke approached with her heart in her throat. Time seemed to stream past her as she found herself going deaf as she leaned in a fraction to settle their orders on the table.  
She didn't address them, smile or make any form of eye contact with the customers. No matter how attractive they ( _she_ ) may be.

Although her attention was focused solely on her task, she felt the direct attention of the beholder of green irises on the side of her face.

She swallowed the beating lump in her throat and parted her lips to inhale as she departed from table 4. Feeling hurt, childish and absolutely stupid for the combination.  
Tucking the drink tray beneath her arm as she walked swiftly away, avoiding any attention she was receiving. It was ironic the cute brunette latte girl would watch her so much when she was more unreachable than ever. The butterflies Clarke felt typically when the girls greens were looking her way were now ruckus causing seagull trapped in a garbage can. The sort that'd frantically beat its wings unevenly, bashing the interior of the plastic bag to a sickening degree.

Clarke spent the following hour brooding like a pissed off teenager behind the barista counter. Only allowing herself to observe the inhabitants of table 4 within her peripheral vision. She felt those same forest green eyes on her several times during the customers stay at the cafe, although she chose to look elsewhere. _Anywhere_ but _that_ girl.

The blonde thought quickly over how silly this crush was on her customer. It was unusual and unhealthy. _Just like you,_ rude-ass inner monologue chimed in.

She huffed. Feeling the choke of the flame within herself. At least kill your smitten gawking at work.

Before she could think, her phone was in her hand and she had opened her Octavias name to observe their text history.  
The thought to send her best friend a text occurred to her heavily as she hovered her thumbs over the touch keyboard.

She lowered her phone with a sigh and locked it on reflex, slipping it back into the pocket of her jeans.

Clarke had decided not to pursue the latte girl. It was the most logical and fair thing she could do on her behalf. Consciously ignore the brunette when she was present and stare at her departing figure as she exits the cafe. She let out a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding. For her sanity, this crush had to stop.

It had been a collective an and 46 minutes the pair had stayed at table 4, when after a the silence of a very loud ringtone, the girl with dirty blonde locks skipped out.

Clarke had watched after her and squinted towards the front door out of curiosity. The movement she exuded was the most ruckus anyone had individually made during Clarkes shift so far. Without thinking, the blonde moved her head right and her eyes immediately managed to seek out the forbidden fruit. The breath taking bright green of the customers eyes would never fail to stun her. She inhaled deeply by parting her lips and returned the contact before exhaling and looking away.  
 _Smooth. Real smooth, Griffin._

Her hand moved to the sterile cloth left crumpled on the bench beside the espresso machine and she began to cleanse the counter. Eyebrows furrowing down at her task as she was well aware she was within sight of the brunette. The brunette she most certainly didn't like. Just a brunette. No big deal.

Her body at some point would follow her mind and stop being so excited at every little second of attention was shot her way. Clarkes heart beat picked up like the footfalls of a startled stallion. The sound deafening.  
She became so invested in scratching away the grime from hardened coffee residue that she barely noticed the heat that crept over her face and ears like a fever.  
Had it always been this hot in the cafe?

"Excuse me?"

Clarke jumped and stared wide eyed at the source of the voice.

It was the brunette of table 4, squinting only a fraction at Clarke. Who knows what that meant, the blonde shrugged off mentally. Who _cares_ what that means.

They shared a mutual pause as Clarke felt the warmth in her cheeks redirect back into the very necessary blood stream.

"Sorry, how may I help you?" Griffin asked, trying her best to regain composure and not behave any differently around her. It was just a customer.

"I'd like a tall latte to go, please."

Clarke quickly crumpled part of her apron into her clammy hands, trying to rid them of her anxiety before hovering her hands over the touch screen.

"Is that all?" The blonde asked, quirking her face into the question even though she remained looking directly at the screen.

"Yes"

"That comes to-"

The brunette cut in by simply raising her hand with her typical amount in her possession.

Clarke met her eyes and raised her own hand to receive the notes. Clarke almost stalled in the middle of her question when their fingers brushed.

"Name?"

The brunette tilted her head slightly, a few of her waves fell further onto the left as her plump lips hesitated before uttering a "Lexa."

Clarke nodded, now looking at the screen again. The cash drawer jutted out and she began sorting the bills respectively. The brunette, 'Lexa.' didn't have to mention Clarke to keep the change. It was already understood between the two, except this time there wouldn't be a stealthy way to give the customer her measly dime.

The scrape the marker made over the exterior of the curved surface satisfied Clarke. It cleared her ears and grounded her somehow.  
Although she wouldn't admit it, she made the latte to the best of her barista ability.

The blonde emptied the contents into the cup, making the traditional latte heart she did habitually before sealing the coffee within the cup with the lid.

"Lexa" Clarke said, not needing to shout for her attention.

The brunette approached and her palm closed over the top of the container to pick it up.  
Her eyes flickered from the bench to Clarkes blue eyes before casting away with a firming of her lips.

"Thank you." Lexa said softly before moving away from the bench.

Clarke didn't have to hear the tinkling of the chime over the front door to know the girl had left because her eyes were glued to her back.

The barista was paralyzed. Wondering what that meant- what it _all_ meant.

It was doing a number on her.

Her shift ended at closing. She needed the extra money to carry her over for the next couple days she had to take off to complete her art assessment.

It was pitch black outside as the weather remained overcast. Not a star in the sky to marvel at or shed a single light on the city.  
The decorative lanterns mounted to the red brick wall inside produced a warm glow throughout the cafe.

Clarke had finished wiping down the tables and vacuuming the floor as Bellamy sorted through stock in the backroom.

As the blonde walked towards the well lit backroom to remove her apron, she remembered the jumper that wasn't hers.  
Then, she had an idea.

She removed the crimson sweater and retrieved the dime from her jeans pocket and walked out onto the floor. Her hands swiftly folded the jumper and tucked it beneath itself and she placed it on table 4's seat. The dime shining upwards to the ceiling, resting on the chest of the fabric. Hopefully she returns Sunday. If not, this will be a weird thing for a guest to discover.

Clarke had finished pulling her coat on and securing her thin canvas bag over her shoulder when she saw the glow from outside the front window.  
Lincolns had pulled up against the curb, Octavia in the front seat.

The night breeze tousled the few free strands of her blonde hair as she entered the backseat of the vehicle.

"Thanks for coming to get me, guys." She said upon settling into her seat.

"No problem." Lincoln replied and Octavia poked her head around from her seat. "Do you really think we'd let you walk home at this hour?"

Clarke chuckled out a "I don't know"

The ride back to her dorms building was brief but she did manage to soak up the orange street light contrast to the deep black nothingness it engulfed just outside the perimeter the light created.

The trio stopped at a 7 Eleven as Lincoln needed to fill his tank. Clarke seized this opportunity to grad a coffee, some doughnuts and a few instant noodle cups.

The not-so-thirdwheel shared a couple doughnuts with her friends before they reached her destination.

"Thank you so much, again. I would've died on the walk here."

"Don't worry. We got you, Princess." Octavia smirked at her friends confession.

"See you!" Clarke called as the navy blue hatchback pulled away.

She entered her shared room, breathless from taking the stairs. She caught a glimpse of a laminated sign very obviously made on word so she just leaped up the flights.

A choked snore caught her attention as she cast her gaze to the right side of the room.  
Raven's sprawled form, an assortment of limbs unique to her own body's capability that'd dislocate a joint if almost anyone else attempted to replicate it.

Clarkes lips cracked into a appreciative grin at her roommate. She swirled the contents of her cup and took a sip. It was a long black without sugar.  
The blonde opted out as she knew her intake of sugar would almost exceed her dietary requirement from donuts alone.

She maneuvered her hand into the box and collected one last glazed krispy kreme for herself then strolled to Reyes bedside and set the box of remaining donuts on the bedside table.

Her feet discarded her boots on her side of the room and she sat cross legged on her bed. Sinking her teeth into the doughy pastry. The glaze cracked like parched ground and fell into her mouth, only to dissolve on her tongue. Had she gotten a job at 7 Eleven, she'd need new size of jeans purely from donut weight.

She turned on her bedside lamp that cast light directly over the torso portion of her bed. Her clean hand pulled her art diary from her canvas bag she had dumped at the end of her bed. Precise fingers flicked through pages that held together in thin bunches until she came to her most recent work in the book.

Blue eyes gazed longingly at the depiction of the latte girl- Lexa.

Her head snapped upright as she remembered the serviette doodle she had done that shift. She unfolded the napkin and placed on the opposite page to the work she was previously admiring. Blonde hair flicked over her shoulder as she leaned for a pacer on her bedside table. Writing those 4 letters beside the drawing in her book.

A breath released from her as her sock covered feet delved into her unmade open sheets.

She grinned sleepily at the fact she got to sleep in tomorrow.

Clarke sank further into her bed and hit the light switch. Her shoulders rolled forward from the embrace of her coat and it fell to the floor in a heap.  
Bare arms vulnerable to the cold air of the dorm, she threw over the rest of the blanket and relaxed under its security.

Until tomorrow.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed this chapter.  
I know it exceeds the length of the 2 before it, i just didn't know where to stop this installment haha  
All reviews are read and appreciated! Constructive criticism is welcomed, too  
Thank you to those for the favourites and follows. The support means a lot to me.  
Thanks for taking time out of your day to read this new chapter.  
I hope it isn't too much content with no immediate clexa scenes but that is the idea.

: )


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